Movie Night
by fiblets5
Summary: It's the summer after Stefan has gone missing with Klaus. Damon and Elena have a movie night together.


Elena had just settled onto the couch and started the movie when she heard the front door close softly.

"Starting movie night without me?" She heard that low voice behind her and she stifled a grin.

"Just barely," she said, scooting further over on the couch to give him room.

"What's on the docket for tonight?" She heard him moving around the kitchen, getting a drink.

"How to Lose a Guy in 10 days." She eyed him, barely able to hide her smile as she watched him saunter towards the couch and waited for his reaction.

He groaned and melted onto the couch, his head on her lap and his feet hanging over the armrest. His pouted and she made a face at him, recovering from her initial breathlessness at how close he suddenly was.  
"Whhhhhyyyyyy?"

She noticed suddenly that underneath his drawn-out whine he sounded just as tired as she felt. The summer had been exhausting for her, but Damon didn't often let on that it had had any effect on him. In the weeks after Stefan left with Klaus, Elena had thrown herself into finding him. She had started training with Ric in the early mornings, so she would be ready to take on a vampire should the need arise. She had been combing the news for stories of animal attacks, any sign of Klaus in any area, pestering Sheriff Forbes for information, passing any tidbits on to Damon and begging him to check them out. Nights had been the worst, when she felt the most helpless. When the house was quiet and her bed was lonely and she'd stare at her window and wish for Stefan's face to appear. Even her desire to write in her diary had waned. It had become too depressing, entry after entry about where Stefan had gone and wondering if he would ever return.

Damon had started coming over more and more often, first to argue with Elena about the leads she was giving him, then to give her updates about what he'd found (which was always nothing), then he started letting her practice her moves she was learning with Ric, then he'd starting lingering longer to make dinner and eventually would stay well into the evening. She hadn't realized it at first, but bit by bit Damon had made everything feel better. After the whole ordeal with Klaus and losing both Stefan and Jenna, Alaric and Jeremy and Elena had drifted apart, all silently and painfully mourning, strangers under the same roof. The first time Damon had made dinner, and they had all gathered around the table to eat, Elena realized part way through that this was the first meal they had all had together since that awful night. They had all helped to clean up afterwards, companionably bumping into each other as they moved about the kitchen, and she'd felt each of their individual reluctance for the evening to end and for each to be left alone to themselves. Since that first night dinner had become a ritual, though occasionally Jeremy would be gone, working at the grill, or Damon and Alaric would be out hunting down leads on Stefan. Most nights after dinner they played games, or watched a movie. Damon never left until everyone was asleep in their beds. Elena sometimes wondered if he stayed through the night, although he was almost never there in the morning.

She wondered if he was lonely.

"Elena."

She realized that she'd been staring at him, lost in thought, and she focused on his brows that were drawn together in concern.

"Hmmm?"

"You alright?"

She started absently playing with his hair, not sure how to answer. She focused on the way his hair started to curl at the ends, and how many different colors were actually there when you started paying attention. The way the light hit, you could see shades of brown, black, even blue and hints of red. She was so focused on his hair she missed the way his eyes widened with surprise at her touch. He made a sound deep in his chest that could only be described as a purr, and she giggled.

With surprising lightness, Damon suddenly flipped so he was lying on his stomach instead, his head still resting in Elena's lap, but facing the tv. With his toes he pulled off his shoes and bent his legs so he was fit onto the couch. One arm wormed under her legs, and the other hand went between her thighs so he was holding her close beneath him.

If she had thought he was trying to flirt or pull some kind of move on her like he usually was, she would have protested and pulled away. But the way he lay in her lap, he seemed for all the world like a tired little boy seeking comfort. He was holding her so close.

She tried to focus on what was happening on screen, and not think about how much she loved her current position. She put her hand to his head again and started playing with his hair, swirling lightly and watching the way his silky soft hairs slipped over her fingers. He sighed deeply and seemed to settle heavier into her. It felt so intimate and somehow so right, more right than cuddling with her missing boyfriend's vampire brother should have felt.

_Her missing boyfriend's vampire brother. _What a mouthful.

She thought back over the timeline of knowing Damon. It was short, in the grand scheme of things. She had known him less than a year, but it felt like so much longer. She was amazed at how many transformations he had gone through in her eyes - from the sexy and mysterious older brother, to the monster in a bad relationship with her best friend, to the flirt who was constantly trying to make Stefan mad and her uncomfortable - and yet she didn't feel confused by him. Somehow he made sense. He was protector and brother and lover and monster and fighter and imperfect and intense and he felt somehow like _hers. _It didn't make any sense, she didn't have any claim to him. He was not a one-woman man, he was not even _her _man. But he had felt like a partner in many small ways, and this summer their partnership had only grown. She had realized she could count on him when it was necessary, and after losing her parents, her guardian, her birth parents, and now Stefan, that was everything.

Damon was in heaven.

He'd been having a shit day. He'd been having a shit few months, honestly. He'd thought being bitten by a werewolf would be the low point of his existence, but then the woman he loved had kissed him, and that had been better. He thought he'd die having kissed Elena and that wasn't the worst way to go.

But then his martyr brother had to go sacrifice himself to save him. So now he was trapped in some nightmare reality where he had what he thought he had wanted - Elena to himself and Stefan out of the picture - and yet he didn't have anything and everything was wrong. Stefan had sacrificed himself for him, so now he owed him and had to spend every waking moment trying to get him back. And Elena was doing the same thing. If Stefan hadn't been high enough on a pedestal, he'd gone and sacrificed himself like a fucking sainted hero and now she'd never give up on him and Damon had to watch as she spent every ounce of her energy chasing his brother.

Spending the summer with her, spending every day and most of his nights in close proximity, watching over her, he felt like a starving man at a buffet of food he couldn't eat. She was right there, they ate together and argued together and watched movies together and made fun of Jeremy together but she wasn't his and never would be and the more time he spent with her the more he knew it was going to hurt when Stefan came back and replaced him in her life.

But every so often, there were moments when he felt like maybe his feelings weren't so one-sided. She'd look at him some way, and he thought he saw maybe a glimmer of affection there. Or they'd both smile at some inside joke and he'd realize they had something that was just _theirs _and maybe one day there could be more.

This was one of those moments.

He had come in exhausted, absolutely gutted. And now he was in her lap, as she soothed the day away with her talented fingers. He couldn't remember her ever touching him voluntarily like this. If she had, he would've remembered. He would've played it over and over in his head instead of those fantasies he had to imagine up himself. Her fingers were magic and they touched him so lightly, so softly, it seemed almost - loving?

It couldn't be but fuck it, he deserved this. He fucking deserved to be lovingly caressed by Elena Goddamn Gilbert and he was going to let himself have this.

He was so comfortable, he felt sleep overtaking him but he wanted to stay awake for this. He wanted to remember every moment.

Elena's fingers began to slow and she realized she hadn't been paying attention to the movie at all. She'd been staring at the screen but her thoughts were all on the man in her lap. She let her eyes roam over him, feeling safe since for once he wasn't watching her back with those ocean-blue, all-seeing eyes. She scanned over his feet - even his socks looked expensive - up his dark jean-clad legs, over his t-shirt that lay softly over the muscles in his back and shoulder, to his arms still wrapped tightly around her. He was perfection, an Adonis in jeans and a t-shirt with a heart that didn't beat.

His hand between her thighs was warm and comforting. She had asked him about it once. Weren't vampires supposed to be cold to the touch? He'd teased her about reading too many Twilight novels, and then explained that as long as he had warm, human blood flowing through his veins, his body functioned pretty much normally, including giving off head, though not as much as your average human. He always did that. Tease and explain. Never left her with a question unanswered. It was part of what was comforting to her. He didn't lie to her, even if she didn't like the truth.

She realized she had stopped playing with his hair when he growled quietly and tightened his grip on her legs.. When she didn't immediately respond, he nuzzled his face against her lap.

"Not getting enough attention, are you?" She teased and she felt his smirk against her thigh.

"Never."

Her heart beat a little faster as he moved below her, and she cursed inwardly because she knew he could tell. Sure enough, he moved his face just fractionally lower, to the edge of her short cotton pajama shorts, and ran his nose softly against the skin of her thigh. Both of her traitorous legs broke out in goosebumps and he laughed a low, sexy laugh. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

He brushed his lips ever so softly along the same spot and kissed her lightly and Elena stopped breathing.

"Damon.." she breathed out. She wasn't sure if she was asking for more or begging him to stop.

"I know," he said quietly. He ran his hand over her leg, smoothing out the goosebumps.

"Brother's girl, and all."

He kissed her once more, achingly soft and sweet on her thigh, and turned towards the tv again, settling back into their original state as if nothing had happened.

Elena's heart continued to beat erratically and Damon hated that he could hear it. Normally he loved the reactions he got from Elena, the way he could make her heart race or arouse her or give her chills with a well placed stroke of his fingers or merely a word.

Right now he hated it all. He hated that he knew her body and would never have her permission to make it sing the way he knew he could.

He hated that she knew what he could do and that she still denied him. While she had been sitting there watching this inane romantic comedy, he'd been watching her smooth, sexy legs stretch out before his eyes. He'd been staring at those delicious thighs long before he'd gotten up the nerve to run his nose along one. He'd played out those soft kisses in his head, a million of them, before he'd dared to slip one in. He wanted to kiss every inch of those legs, slowly leading up to her apex as she forgot how to breathe in anticipation.

While she had been absent mindedly playing with his hair, he had been imagining her fingers running over other parts of his body. While she'd been sitting still, he'd been acutely aware of the way her blood pumped through the legs he held in his arms. He'd gone dizzy with the awareness of her sweet heat emanating from her core.

She was aroused.

She was wet.

He had her in her arms and she was wet with desire for him and still, _still _he'd heard the warning in her voice when she said his name.

He usually loved to hear her name on her lips. Even when he was in trouble and anger flashed in her eyes, he loved to hear his name. It was easy to imagine her screaming his name in his bed, unable to keep from yelling her thanks for the way he brought her body to life.

If she knew the number of women who had screamed his name over the years. If only she'd be interested in a few testimonials. He would rock her world. He would ruin her for all other men, most of all his pansy-ass moody broody little brother.

If she would only let him.

Part of him wanted to just take her. She'd resist, of course, but she'd thank him later.

But he couldn't. She was the only woman in the world he couldn't take, but he wanted more than anything for her to give herself to him. He was a vampire, for god's sake. He was an immortal monster who could tear your heart from your chest before you knew he was even there. But in the presence of this nearly 18 year old female he was powerless.

He hated it and he craved it and he couldn't keep himself away.

So when her heart raced at his barest touch and her panties flooded with wetness only inches from his mouth, and when her legs burst out in goose bumps at the lightest sweep of his _nose_, of all things, and yet she begged him without words to stop, he did.

And he laid back as if they were nothing but friends watching a movie together, and he hated himself. And he wanted to hate her.

But then her hands were in his hair again.

And a single tear slipped down his face and landed on her thin cotton shorts.


End file.
